Holy Roman Empire

Now that I can sleep anytime
on the couch, I cannot sleep
at all. The newspapers folded
at one end and I slide my feet
under them instead of grabbing
some blankets. My neck hurts
and awakening each hour
I check on the morning,
is it here yet?
The world of the night
is full of breaking newstories,
chapters of the Bible,
unending capsules of time
and faux turquoise necklaces
running out of themselves
next to table-top cookers
and cardigan sweaters
in five colors, machine washable.
Certainly there must be
something there about
which to write, something
left for me to tell and sell
some brilliant new scheme.